


Fate RWBY: Wishes of The Damned

by Halest0rm3



Category: Fate/Zero, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms, RWBY
Genre: Also this story is gonna deviate from the original storyline, F/F, F/M, Fate Zero is dark and my writing aint exactly cheery, Gen, If you want fluff or happy endings this probs aint the fic for you, Though you might get away with just knowing fate zero, You should know the basics of both fandoms, cuz otherwise it wouldnt be any fun, why
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-28
Updated: 2015-06-25
Packaged: 2018-04-01 17:24:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4028440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Halest0rm3/pseuds/Halest0rm3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"Show me a hero and I'll write you a tragedy"- F. Scott Fitzgerald</i>
</p>
<p>7 classes, 7 heroes, 7 masters<br/>So it was in the first holy war and so it shall be, till the end of the ages.</p>
<p>Saber, the one who protects, ever on the noble pursuit of justice<br/>Rider, the one who seeks, wanderlust rippling in their wake<br/>Berserker, the one who is mad, kissed by Lyssa herself <br/><i>Your first impression is that of a dark red creature, an unnatural abomination. The lopsided kneel was not that of a human but of some wilden jagbeast. Its only when it draws itself to full stature that you notice the form, the unmistakable form. It's nothing more than a child, a girl even judging by her shape. Bespattered by mud and blood, so much that not a speck of pink is visible, and wielding a hammer more than half a size, but still nothing more than a girl. The ravaged inside of your lip trickles rust with disappointment. How are you expected to hold off against saber or caster class servants with this?</i></p>
<p>Let the fourth holy grail war begin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Call Forth the Heavens

7 classes, 7 heroes, 7 masters, so it was in the first holy war, and so it shall be till the end of time.  
"My fate, resting on thy sword, if thou wilt bend to my will, my justice, heed the grails call and give your answer"  
Saber, the one who protects, ever on the noble pursuit of justice.  
"Born of fire, upon this foundation of iron and silver, heed the call of glory and make haste hither,"  
Rider, the one who seeks, wanderlust rippling in their wake  
"Become the wall that repels the gates, pass through the heavens, and descend"  
Archer, the one who rebels, their loyalty kept deep within their own heart, not lightly enticed nor held.  
"As each is fulfilled, so must each return to the nether, as each is returned so does the cycle complete,"  
Lancer, the one who fights, perhaps not willingly, but always with a secret joy in their heart,  
"Above them, the seven rings of magic"  
Caster, the one who is cursed, doomed to be hated, feared.  
"Yet, thou serves with thine eyes clouded in chaos. Thou, bound in the cage of madness. I am he who commands those chains"  
Berserker, the one who is mad, kissed by Lyssa herself,  
"Heed the grails call, and come forth to meet your master,"  
Assassin, the one who kills, child of darkness and snuffer of light,  
So it was before and so it shall be again,  
Let the fourth holy grail war begin,

*****

The pulse runs through your body, magic far beyond the simplicity of the summoning, far beyond anything you've ever managed to call before, overflowing from the pentacle of sigils, vaporizing all but the most incorrigible blades of grass into ash and dust.

Now, now is the moment of truth. In truth you had half expected the whole thing to be an elaborate prank. A holy war of revived servants, battling to the death for an omnipotent object of wishes. Its laughable, completely foolish! Surely such an event could not have occurred under the eyes of the vast majority of the wizarding community six times already. And yet, there is no mistaking the otherworldliness of that pulse, nor of the ones you sensed three times already today, far in the distance and yet not far enough.

And there's also the figure rising to its feet right in front of you, that's a pretty clear sign that whatever this thing is it's not a joke.

The fog clears unnaturally fast, almost seeming to shun the clearing for the safety of the woods and the first aspect of your servant that you notice is hi-, no her hair. Obnoxiously orange, the colored embodiment of a raging bonfire and long enough to reach down to her waist. She steps closer, a single knee high boot in front, and the rest of her features become visible.

Striking violet tinged eyes look down from her vantage point of being at least a foot taller than you. The word knockout suits best, because though words like ravishing or voluptuous would also do justice, the hard glint in her gaze and the self collected way she cracks her knuckles leaves no doubt in your mind that this girl could destroy you with the merest touch.   
"Hey cutie you still with me? You've been staring at me a while now" Her voice shocks you out of your thoughts.

"Uhh y-yes i-im here! I'm Waver Vel- wait first we should finish the ceremony how did it go, yea ok umm here we go" You take a small breath to calm your rushing heartbeat before pressing forward. A solitary bead of sweat is courageously makes its way down your brow despite the cool night chill. "Rider Class servant, my name is Waver Velvet and I shall be your master for the duration of this holy grail war or until either thine or mine death breaks the contract, do you accept the conditions?"

She studies you for what feels like an eternity before breaking into a sly grin. "Waver is it? I think you and I are going to have a LOT of fun in the next couple of weeks"

She walks up to you and kneels on one knee. Much to your shame, even kneeling her face is barely lower than yours. Her gaze lock onto yours even as her gloved hand rests upon your shoulders nearly knocking you off balance. Her eyes dance with a wild celestial joy, the only aspect of her appearance that gives away her immortality, and you shiver involuntarily. "I accept the contract Waver Velvet, my master" Her tone half borders on fanciful, sarcasm and mirth and mock reverence all mixed into an incomprehensible slurry.

Her hand lifts from your shoulders, her otherworldly gaze breaks from your own, and you remember how to breathe. She flicks her hair back with all the swagger of a siren among hags and marches back towards the center of the pentagram. You should call her back, there's details to go over, enemies to gauge, plans upon plans to evaluate and you don't even know if she would obey you if you ordered her to come back. Archer was supposed to be the most independent class, but looking at your servant you find that hard to believe. She's something else entirely.

She turns back, as if hearing your thoughts and beckons you forward. "Come on Waver we don't have all night"

"What do you mean we don't have all night, where did you want to go?? The path back to my house is this way, we should go back and make plans, also I'm the master why are you telling me what to do, you're supposed to obey me you know" The words come spilling out faster than thought and you half expect her to dismember you limb from limb by the time you finish. Instead she laughs, a rich hearty booming laugh, that reverberates in the air far longer than it should before finally dying.

"Plans, Schmans, there'll be time for all that boring stuff later. Right now the night is young and I feel like exploring this new shiny world I've been summoned in. If my dear master," She pronounces the last words with pure sincerity and it stings with mockery far worse than if she had lathed on the sarcasm, "is scared of the dark then he is free to go on home without me"

You sigh in exasperation. Of course you would get the servant that does whatever she wants whenever she wants it. Still all that matters is that she wins you the grail. And she is a thousand year old spirit or something, she probably knows what she's doing by now. "How do you even plan to get to where you want to go, its a half hour walk out of this forest and then about an hours walk to the city?"

Her hand makes an imperceptible gesture and you lose a small trickle in mana as a small flame rises up from the scorched grass. A silver flame, billowing jet black smoke, and right before your eyes the smoke morphs to metal, creaking and groaning as its shaped and battered into an elaborate machine. A large oversized elaborate machine that becomes more and more familiar by the second. The last piece of the frame solidifies in place and the fire wicks out of existence, leaving the largest most complex most dangerous looking motorcycle you have ever seen. 

"Who said anything about walking?"  
*****

Sakkura, this is all for Sakura. Her name echoes in your ears, drowning out the shouting, the terrible shouting Sakura sakura get out of my head servant get OUT OF MY HEAD BERSERKER sakura sakkkura tohsaka aoi rin this servant, my servant is going to _kill_ you, _kill sakura, KILL EVERYONE._

"Get up you sack of shit!" You feel his staff hit the flat of your back and you vow for the hundredth ti- no the thousandth time that whatever the outcome of the war you would see Zoken tossed to the same worms that he fed Sakura to, you would see his beloved pets rip every inch of flesh from him. _Kill the maggot,_ The voices agree with you, just for this one thing, and that should scare you more than it does.

They're the voices of Berseker, you're sure of it, no other voice could make you want to cut yourself open and rip it out with your bare hands, no other voice could drown out even your hate for Zoken.

_Let me take control,_ it croons, among other things. _Let me kill the maggot._ You almost accept, almost stop fighting against the maelstrom of chaos and rage. His death would certainly bring you no tears of sadness. But Sakura, it always came down to Sakura. Sitting upstairs, sitting, staring, with that haunting look that grew ever more unnatural with every night that passed. If you let Berserker take control, would you be able to stop? If you hurt her... It could never happen.

You dig your nails into your palms hard enough to draw blood and this sharp pain brings you back from the brink of madness. With an effort you shut out the voices and drag your ruined body up to a sitting position. Sitting, sitting is all you can manage right now. Salty blood runs down your fingers and you hardly notice so fixated you are on the kneeling figure in front of you.

Your first impression is that of a dark red creature, an unnatural abomination. The lopsided kneel was not that of a human but of some wilden jagbeast. Its only when it draws itself to full stature that you notice the form, the unmistakable form. It's nothing more than a child, a girl even judging by her shape. Bespattered by mud and blood, so much that not a speck of pink is visible, and wielding a hammer more than half a size, but still nothing more than a girl. The ravaged inside of your lip trickles rust with disappointment. How are you expected to hold off against saber or caster class servants with this?

Your _father_ , bastard that he is, is laughing fit to kill. "I knew you would find some way to mess up your chances at winning but I didn't expect it to happen before the war even started" His staff digs into your back with a vengeance knocking your frail body face-first into the stone. You curse inwardly and get back up without a response.

"Well call it to attention why don't you? If it even responds to you that is"

"Berserker can yo-" You pause to spit out a glob of blood onto the stone. "Can you understand me?"

It had been looking down until now, hood blocking out everything except the mouth, but at your voice the head jerked back and the hood fell to the ground. It left the hammer and limped forward, movements more animalistic than human. Yes she was a girl, but she was also not. No girl walked like that, like a two-legged wolf stalking it's prey. No girl moved without opening her eyes, as if closed was the default position for her eyelids. No girl would have such mishapen hair, cut as if by a knife, shorter on one side than the other. Once they might have been curly flowing locks, they were too matted and bloody to say for sure.

It inches closer and closer, ever so silently and the cold suffocating aura steals your very breath. It stops in front of you, head cocked slightly to one side and you would swear that behind her eyelids she can see you, see inside you, read the very thoughts running around you- _bleed maim ki_ \- You shut your mind hurriedly, helplessly gasping for air to ground you back to sanity.

You try again, your clammy tongue stammering to pull together the words. "Berserker do you accept my as your master?"

It-she-it pulls her lips into a ghastly mockery of a smile, steak-knife fangs distorting the human more and more into beast. Her eyelids open, exorbitantly slowly as if for the first time. The sight pins you in place more effectively than if each of your limbs had been viciously nailed down. 

Milky white pupils on a backdrop of endless thin inter-crossing veins. They could have hardly been worse if the entire eye had been white and any lingering hope that this was in fact a human, and not some unholy combination of hellspawns dissipates into the void. 

_I accept master_ it crows in your head, an ugly disshapen croon, each syllable butchered and bloody by a tongue that surely couldn't be human. _Show me who to kill_ A different voice. The voice of a girl, mouth forming around the words with pre-pubescent gayness.

You spend the first night on your knees screaming.  
*****

_"Are you nervous daddy?" She insisted you follow her to her room and that she had a good luck charm to give you before... before it started._

_"No Ilya" You lied, more for your sake than hers. The mage-killer would have lied, and thats who you needed to become again if you were going to win this war, to give Ilya a life outside of the holy wars. "Im excited that this is finally going to happen and after this is all over I'll come back and that'll be the last time I ever have to leave"_

_Her face lit up in a way a homonculus' was never supposed to. "I know you'll win daddy, you always do" She kept her grip on your hand tight, all the way to her room not even letting it go to lean down and rummage under her pillow._

_"And just to make sure you win promise you'll keep this with you at all times okay?" She handed you a small walnut bud, the kind you would go out into the woods with her to find._

_"I promise my princess"_

"If thou wilt bend to my will, my justice, heed the grails call and give your answer"

The incantation dies out, and for all of several heartrending seconds there's nothing but silence. Seconds to contemplate failure, to panic- no the mage killer must remain collected at all times. Your heartbeat slows back to its normal pace and you grip Irisviel's hand reasurringly.

The wind starts up, a warm tropical wind in this closed off musty church, growing stronger and stronger until it threatens to drag you off your feet, howling in your ear all the while. You bear through it all, eyes fixed on the bursts of light emanating from the circle, on the sharp pang of mana seeping from your circuits. A final explosion of wind and the church returns to its quiet solemnity.

Saber is the strongest class, of that there is little doubt. They have a strong advantage over not just the magic classes but also over the other knight classes. In a fair one-on-one match saber could hold her own against even berserker. You could hardly ask for a better servant.

Your servant steps forward and you hear Irisviel give a gasp of surprise. A dark haired woman, clad in black armor, grasping an unsheathed katana at her side. Or rather, some weapon that looks like a katana. Not quite the look of a knight really, more dark than noble, but her walk is a warrior's walk and you give a small nod of satisfaction at the outcome.

"Are you my master?" Her voice is curt, every word tailored for its purpose and no more. It matches her disdainful glare.

"I am, are you of the servant class Saber?" It is not the saber you imagined, surely not the saber described in previous wars, but you think that you can work with this one.

"I am" She runs her left hand through her hair pulling out a dark headband. She snaps the band in two letting the pieces fall to the floor and only now do you notice perhaps the most curious aspect of her anatomy.

"C-cat ears!" Irisviel whispers in your ear, "Saber has cat ears"

You open your mouth to speak but she cuts you off before you can continue. "I am not one to mince words, particularly with strangers, particularly with the type of strangers who would participate in this _holy war_ " She speaks with the poise of a leader, a king even, a tongue that would harbor no interruption nor allow disrespect. "But if I am to participate then I shall participate to win this war, therefore I shall talk and you shall listen and when I am done you will tell me everything you know about our opponents, our allies, our strengths, our weaknesses, our position, and the exact role of this young woman who apparently doesn't know the difference between Faunus and cat ears, do you understand master?" There was no guile, no threat, in her voice, just brute honesty. You nod assent.

"My name is Blake Belladonna. You will of course not call me by that name in any place the enemy may overhear. I am a faunus with superior senses than normal humans. I also have perfect night vision. Besides these advantages I also have all the advantages that come with being a heroic spirit, namely the ability to dematerialize and materialize at will as well as a couple of other small skills. My weapon of choice is Gambol Shroud, a modified katana weapon that can be turned into a pistol at moment's notice" She demonstrates as such, proving your suspicions that this is no ordinary weapon. "Currently it is missing a sheathe which I can only assume was the artifact used to bring me into this world" She notices Irisviel imperceptible nod and responds likewise. "I shall expect it before our first battle then. Is there any other information you feel is relevant master?"

"Just two Saber. First what is your stance on honor and fairness in the battlefield?" This was the key question, the reason you had not been wholly pleased with the Einzbern's artifact. If your servant hesitated on a single one of your plans, out of some misguided nobility or code, that could end your hopes for the holy grail. Such an obstacle if it existed, needed to be found out now.

She takes her time answering this question, scarred fingers tracing the edge of her weapon and along the groove of the hilt. When she finally deigns to speak again it's not quite the businesslike frankness that had dominated their conversation beforehand. Almost, but not quite. "My hand shan't be stayed by misguided convictions if that's what you fear. Honor will be given for those who don't fight and withheld from those who seek the grail. Does that answer your question master?"

"Perfectly. My second question Saber, is what wish you desire to ask of the grail?"

She stills at that, her scowl reaffirmed and her glare chilled to the core. "For all intents and purposes I have no wish” She pauses noting your unsatisfied expression. Motive affects every action, and this plan must take every factor into consideration if it is to succeed. “I see you yearn for more, let me make something very clear. I am but a tool of yours. I will kill and bleed for your naive hopeless fantasies and in return you will not seek to understand my motives and you will not deign to research my past do we have an understanding master?”

“For now” You do not intend to let it rest at that, not with something this important. Naive this dream might be, but hopeless never and you will see your wish granted by the grail if it means the death of you. 

Still aside from this minor setback Saber has proven herself a servant beyond your wildest dreams. All that remained was to see her skill in combat and then the plan could commence in full. 

“Come Saber I'll show you our defenses” You allow yourself a small grin as you push the grand doors open into the vast hallways of the Einzbern Fortress.


	2. Raise the Facade of Righteousness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"The true victim of the Trojan War was neither Helen nor Hector, neither Priam nor Menelaus. It was dear sweet Patroclus; fated to love a hero; forced to don the tragedy of a hero to save the one he loved. Lovers of heroes are the true martyrs_  
>  "Blake Belladonna what will it take for you to get your head out of your book and kiss me?" She asked, and at that moment even the most thrilling epic paled against the backdrop of her gentle caresses, her sultry gaze.

Let nobody say that you, Irisviel von Einzbern, aren’t used to being around the brooding silent archetype. It’s rare the days in which Kiritsugu will indulge your passion for stories and Mia has fired more bullets than words in your presence. Before them there were the Einzbern’s, and though they were never rude it was hardly customary for them to talk to their little plastic experiment.

Saber, though, is on a whole different level. You wouldn’t have expected it from the fluidity with which she talked during the summoning but after several hours of traveling through Japan and no small effort at conversation you have managed to elicit exactly 7 words from the brooding heroine. Half of those weren’t even directed at you! “Black coffee please.” It’s infuriating!!

Not that you haven’t enjoyed yourself. A small hovel in the middle of nowhere would have been paradise after spending your whole life in the Einzbern castle and Fuyuki City is certainly no hovel. Just because this sightseeing trip is just an excuse to fool the other masters into thinking you are Saber’s master doesn’t mean you can’t have a little fun right?

The sun sneaks away imperceptibly for his evening frolic. Soon enough it’ll be night and time to return to the hotel room Kiritsugu booked for you earlier. Across the street from the one he and Maya shared, directly across actually, giving him a clear line of sight in case any servants decide to attack. He worries too much, your Kiri. Its saved his and your life enough times that you’re eternally grateful for his watchful eye but just once you wish you could have his attention without him subconsciously noting all the possible escape routes. A selfish wish, he’s given you everything and more, but you can’t help being a little selfish when it comes to him.

A cool wind sweeps the street sending a small shiver down your spine in spite of your thin sweater. No servants apparently, or at least none that were willing to show their face. Soon you and Blake will start heading back, but who knows when you’ll get this chance again. One more store, time for one more store. A modest moss-ridden bookstore catches my eye and you gesture for Saber to follow before flitting inside.

The Einzebern had a library of course. Tomes of alchemy, of arcane runes, star alignment calendars, and practically every class of magic known to man. All bound in animal skin and listed alphabetically behind panes of glass. Dreary and depressing really. You read the ones they assigned you to read, to prepare for your duty as a grail vessel, but otherwise stayed out of the place. Kiritsugu brought you books too, once he saved you, books he would collect on his journey just for you, but never quite enough to satisfy you.

This place however. Stacks of books higher than me precariously balance against each other in a makeshift attempt to create some sort of order. Refugees from the pile litter the walkway with impunity and the smell of paper and coffee permeates the air. It’s absolutely perfect. You could spend the rest of the holy grail war here reading and still only scratch the surface. Books about adventure, about foreign countries and faraway lands, about grand exploits and vastly different worlds. Books about love, about children and happily ever afters.

It’s foolish. Night will come soon and hiding out in the bookstore isn’t going to help any part of Kiritsugu’s plan. You run your hand down the pillar of stories and gently pull on a slightly dislodged corner of a light paperback. Just a little while you promise yourself, just a little while and then you will focus entirely on the plan.

“Saber tell me when half an hour passes” You say absentmindedly, your eye’s already scanning the words on the first page. After several paragraphs you realize you didn’t hear a response and turn around to perhaps the last sight you ever expected.

Saber is half sitting, half kneeling against the wall of books, as if she had gotten halfway down before getting distracted. She’s holding a thick hardcover, her gaze transfixed on the words, her fingers already grasping the corner to turn the page. Most surprisingly her signature scowl is replaced by a fanciful grin. Whereas before she looked the part of a hero, competent and deadly, now she plays the role of a young woman, eagerly rereading her favorite book for perhaps the fourth or fifth time. It’s a nice change, albeit perhaps not one that Kiritsugu would appreciate.

“Saber?” You repeat, since she gave no sign of hearing the first time. She tears her eyes away with all the reluctance of an angel looking away from the heavens and her scowl flits back into place effortlessly.

“Yes mistress?”

“We can’t spend too long here, can you please let me know when half an hour has passed?”

“Of course mistress” Her attention is back on the page already and hiding a small urge to laugh at Saber’s abrupt change.

She’s a strange servant alright.

*****

The Tohsaka mansion was protected by generations of protective wards, overlayed upon each other in thick cobwebs of runes. If anybody, servant or master, breached the perimeter they would be warned with more than enough time to either confront or retreat.

Throughout the grounds there wasn't a sound to be heard. A crystal defense system ensured that not even a mouse squeaked anywhere close to the Tohsaka mansion. Inside however, in the largest of several dining halls was a rather different story

“Move swift as the Wind and closely-formed as the Wood. Attack like the Fire and be still as the Mountain. I'll strike the enemy when I'm ready and not a second before master”

Tokiomi let out a sigh of exasperation. The archer class boasted the highest level of independent action he had known that from the start. Not the ideal choice, he would have much preferred a class like castor or lancer. Weaker they might be but at least they would follow his plan like a servant should.

“Sun Tzu was a master strategist, not a master mage. The rules of engagement are completely different in a battle such as this. Information about our enemies is key if we are to emerge victorious. And information can best be collected in the heat of the battle” He waved his hand at the scrying glass, the pigeon-spirit channeling the vision of a small bookstore on Ragner st, a black haired woman visible through the window. Runes upon runes dotted the perimeter of the glass leaving no doubt that this was another servant. Perhaps Lancer, perhaps Assassin, it didn't much matter. What DID matter was that Tokiomi's servant refused to go out and meet this unknown servant in battle. Tokiomi had planned this war out for the better part of a decade. Who was this snooty self-serving princess to say that she knew better than him?

“Nevertheless we shall wait. Let the lesser servants scurry around and kill each other off. I shall strike down the bloody victor, like the mongrel that they are.” She twirled her wine glass lazily, daintily taking a small sip before placing it firmly back on the table.

“And how am I to plan for our victory if you will not deign to show me your fighting abilities?” Tokiomi let a little anger creep into his voice. He was the most qualified of the other masters by far. But if he wasn't wary his servant's egotism would drag him down to his grave, as well as the dreams of generations of Tohsaka's.

She _laughed_ , the little vixen. A crystal laugh, freezing ice to the warmth of the fireplace, chilling his blood to a sickening crawl. “Don't fret master, I shall lead us to victory. I didn't become Weiss Schnee, Empress of the North, honorary daughter of the Queen Mother herself for nothing. I have broken the bodies of more enemies than you could ever hope to inspire and led more soldiers than you could ever dream of commanding. Truly you are nothing more than a child in the presence of royalty, I shall show you how a true queen crushes her rivals”

Tokiomi gripped his glass to the point of shattering, hot anger threatening to spill over the facade of aloofness he had put so much effort into. He took a deep breath, then a collected sip of the premium 1989 Chateu La Lagune before following his servant's example and placing the glass on the table. “When?” He choked out in a respectable facsimile of calm.

“When the time was right” Came her reply, like clockwork. Just the answer he expected and no less infuriating for that fact.

A small knock precluded the appearance of Kirei Kotomine, assassin's master and his partner as well as mentee. Tokiomi allowed himself a small sigh of relief before turning to greet the promising new mage. Kirei was truly a blessing he had never knew he needed. Winning the grail, a favorable possibility before, now became an almost certainty.

“Tokiomi” His bland voice drew sharp contrast to Archer's snooty whine.

“What is it Kirei?”

“Assassin found Lancer. I imagined you would want to know”

*****

Your master is kinda cute, such a provincial kid. Not that he's your type, but anyone can appreciate adorable naivety, especially if the subject of said adorable naivety is hunched in the side cart, arms crossed, looking for all the world like a lost bunny or puppy. Right around the tenth rooftop he stopped yelling bloody mary, opting instead for a slightly-green look.

Yea maybe it isn't exactly right for you to tease your master like this, but it's so much fun!! When you signed up for this heroic spirit shit noone told you that heroic spirits tend to lose their sense of humor. This waver kid's the most fun you've had for centuries(or whatever passes for centuries in the timeless plasma of exodistentialism). Who can blame you for having a little joke at his expense?

Besides it wasn't entirely malice on your part to take him on a trip of the city's bumpiest roofs. You've already sensed another servant going about her business, their master no doubt close by. You ease up on the gas skidding your baby sideways to knock off a few roof tiles in the process. The motorcycle slows to a gentle growl and you shake your hair free of your helmet. The helmet gets tossed overboard, to dematerialize on its way to the pavement.

“Hey kid” He takes a fat minute to collect his guts. Damn kids today can't handle a little ride. At his age you were already launching yourself off planes.

“Y-yea” He's too winded to even remind you who's the master in this relationship(which he did multiple times before you amped the speed up).

“I found lancer”

That perked him up, nausea visibly leaving his face as excitement took over. 

“Where” He whispered looking from left to right like a curious chihuaha, eyes wide as saucers. Yea your master might not be the strongest or the bravest but at least he never fails to amuse. You lean your baby against the wall before gesturing for him to follow you towards the edge. 

“Over there, the one in the suit” A tall pale-skinned and luxuriously red-haired woman casually strolling past the throng of mortals without an apparent care in the world. Even without the telltale pulses of aura basically radiating around her, Lancer still looked rather incongruous against the backdrop of people and cars. Not that her disguise was off, but rather that it fit almost too well. Her suit was perfectly tailored, fine Italian craftsmanship making her look even taller and more regal than she already was. Flaming locks of red were tied into some semblance of a ponytail, a bright splash of red on gray to draw attention from a mile away. As you watched she paused her walk to the city to lean down and pet a nearby puppy. The dog’s walker just stared at her dumbfounded as Lancer stood back up and continued her voyage.

“What should we do?” asked Waver, still in a whisper. You turn and flash him your slyest smirk before answering.

“I’m just a humble servant Waver. You’re the master, you tell me” The flustered look of alarm he gives you at hearing his own words echoed back to him is absolutely priceless. You give him a minute to recover his composure. At last he smooths out his cuffs and clears his throat. 

“Rider go forth and challenge Lancer. Don’t get yourself killed and gather as much information as you can about her abilities.” He says it all with a grandeur that would be slightly more impressive if he wasn’t shivering from the night chill. 

“And what about you master?”

“M-me?”

“Will you accompany me in this fight, or will you stay here and hide?”

“Revealing my identity this early in the game wouldn’t be smart…” He chooses each word carefully, the gears visibly turning in his head. You shrug noncommittally, daring him to continue.

“What would be the advantage in coming down to fight with you Rider?” A good question, albeit one you can’t answer for him. 

“To win the grail? Probably none” Always the grail with these masters, they never care about the important stuff. “It would be brave however, and your blood would boil upon witnessing firsthand a glorious fight far beyond the capabilities of men. It would be the most fun you’ve ever had in your mortal life.” You clasp a hand around his shoulders and move him back to the edge of the roof. Lancer stopped again, this time to hear a street musician play his saxophone. Her rich Amazonian skin positively glowed with life. Invisible to everyone else, the arcs of mana and prana formed gusts around her, swelling to ever greater distances before dissipating into the air. “Just look at her. Absolutely marvelous. How can one resist a warrior such as her? Even now my sword itches to meet hers. I have fought ten thousand battles and I can already tell this one, this one is going to be exceptional.”

Waver shrank away from the edge, his expression pensive. “I’m not in this war for fun Rider”

“Suit yourself” How disappointing. No matter, there’s a fight to be had and you’ve wasted enough time here talking. You dematerialize the side cart that Waver sat in and in one fluid motion slide back on your motorcycle, handlebars pointed directly towards the red-haired warrior. 

“Wait” Waver wears the first determined look you’ve seen from him yet. “I’m going with you, but not for fun or anything stupid like that. It’s doubtful that any of the masters would recognize me even if they got a clear look at my face, I’m just a first-generation student after all. If I stick with you they can’t kill you by attacking me when I’m defenseless. Also the closer I am the easier it’ll be to take the mana you need from me. And if her aura is any indication then you’re going to need all the mana you can get.”

“Hop on” Perhaps there is hope for your master after all. Of course the heartfelt master-servant moment kinda gets ruined when your master almost falls trying to get on behind you. You grab his arms and place them around your waist at which he stammers incoherently. You can practically feel him blush behind you. 

“Hold on tight or else you’ll go flying the moment I pedal the gas. Once the fight starts keep an eye out for any other servants or masters who might come around. I’m counting on you to watch my back okay Waver?”

“O-okay” He stammers. And with that the engine finally roars to life drowning out your shouts of jubilance and your master’s screams of fear.


	3. Born of Silver and Sin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Music was invented to confirm human loneliness- Lawrence Durell_
> 
> Her servants were young souls, ever so partial to gossip. And gossip they did, long into the night.  
>  "She went outside today, our lady did, in nothing more than a fur coat"  
>  "Again??? Ice Queen she might be but she'll freeze to death if she keeps going out in this ghastly cold.  
>  "I wouldn't be so sure..."  
>  "Oh larry do shut your trap, we've been over this and she's definitely human, not ghost or demon or whatever you want her to be"  
>  "You can deny it all you want but Old Nott, the groundskeeper's son that is, he followed her one night and he swears on his dead mother's soul that she was singing. Bloody singing!! Out in the woods where theres all kinda spirits and whatnot"  
>  "What a load a nonsense"  
>  "All I'm sayin is no human that aint made sort of unseemly pact would go into _those_ woods alone, thats for sure"

And thus the first fight began, a blur of yellow and black roaring through the air, hugging the walls in curves of reckless abandonment leaving red hot streaks of still smoking asphalt in its wake. Rider slowed her machine to a menacing growl not ten feet in front of Lancer. Lancer stood still, weapons undrawn and smile more genuine than sly, looking for all the world like a happy-go-lucky passerby rather than a servant. She was the only one, however, who wasn’t scrambling to get away from the “Crazy Motorcycle Lady!!!" Well her, the dog, and the dogwalker. Apparently Benny the Chihuahua had taken over as Lancer’s Bodyguard, running circles around the servant and barking his tail off at Rider. The dogwalker, a sweet girl named Alice who was saving up for a car, lurked just out of sight no doubt torn between duty to her job and the (understandable) fear of messing with the girl who just tore up half the pavement with her motorcycle.  
Lancer kneeled down and scooped the yowling dog up into her arms. Benny nuzzled her cheek and Lancer giggled when he almost fell out of her arms trying to give her a kiss. She turned and walked over to the stunned girl with a broken leash in one hand. After handing Benny over she walked back to where she was, lime-green eyes fixed on Rider’s violet ones. One hand lifted up, as if to cast a spell…

“Hello there!” Her gay voice rang distant bells of innocence and merriness. It was not that of a hero, nor even that of a soldier. Of a mother perhaps, or even a lover. Her smile was that of angels, and Waver smiled back instinctively until Yang nudged him back to reality. 

“Hey Lancer fancy meeting you here!!” Yang raised her hand in response.

“Pardon and who might you be?” Another dose of morphin in the form of sound. Will-O-Wisps danced with every word and even Yang visibly shuddered. Her tone was that of a mellow siren, of a solitary vixen, a subtle temptress of souls. Waver felt his body grow hot, sweat drip down his brow against a backdrop of an evermore pressing heartbeat. He fixed his eyes on the back of his servant’s head, mentally tracing each strand of hair down to its end until the magic gave way. Only then did he hear the shrill beeping of his charm, the earpiece he had enchanted just this morning to detect hostile magic. 

A charm of some sort, some type of magic designed to lull its target into irresistible infatuatedness. Waver felt the mental fog lift slightly. Such magic was always less effective when the target knew what was happening. He finally drew his eyes back to Lancer, jolting with surprise upon seeing her eyeing him. She gave a small, almost imperceptible, nod of approval before drawing her gaze back to rider. 

“Ehh just a free flying blonde city chick _Riding_ in to steal your heart and then your life in that order” Rider winked at her opponent while simultaneously kicking Waver in the shin. Waver took the hint and scrambled off the motorcycle and back against the wall. 

“Ah I see” Her fingers curled around the rapidly coalescing air and with one fluid motion she brought her Hellenic style javelin to bear. A deadly red and gold beauty of a weapon, handled with the nimblest movements. Her suit followed suit as it were, the tasteful gray and black morphing into gold and crimson, smooth leather hardening to metal. A striking pair of black heels flattened into intricately engraved war boots. The tie curled in itself to choke her neck with a large bronze gornet. Fire ran up the lengths of her long muscular legs, melting into a bright red drapery around her waist. Large hoop earrings shrank into a pair of emerald teardrop earrings. An Amazonian princess in full battle armor, effortlessly intimidating and piercingly beautiful. 

“You’re more than welcome to try” She returned the wink and Yang let out a vibrant laugh. 

All was silent for the better part of a minute, both servants staring each other down. The warrior, clad in armor and weapon at the ready, looking for all the world like Achilles before the gates of Troy, pitted against the adventurer, a burning ember in her bosom and boiling fire running through her veins. Waver looked on silently, not even realizing he was holding his breath with anticipation. The watcher pigeon twitched, as if to assure its master that the scene hadn’t frozen. Two more watchers looked on from the rooftops, studying the first fight of the war. Waiting, ever waiting. 

Metal shot forward, faster than sound, faster than thought, wheels seemingly flying if not for the path of red it left behind. Fire burned from the Rider, behind, around, in front, billowing smoke obscuring her charge into that of legends and myths. Her eyes were clear though, cutting through the smoke with impunity, no longer violet but the color of a flaming bonfire painting the world into a beautiful tapestry of death.

Lancer stood there, not moving a muscle while the grand machine bore down upon her, smiling all the while. Her javelin rested at her side. She did nothing to stop the Rider heading directly for her.  
It didn’t crush her however. The wheels shifted imperceptibly at the last millisecond, just enough that the machine roared past Lancer, close enough to graze her and yet impossibly it missed. Her drapery caught fire and only then did Lancer move to pat down the youngling flame. 

“How’d you manage that?” Yang was on her knees with her back to Lancer. She had jumped off the motorcycle right before it crashed against the wall, effectively dematerializing before it could make a dent in someone’s store. She turned and the flames scratched at her boots flared up close enough to lick at her knees. 

“Manage what?” Lancer asked innocently. 

Yang launched a glob of spit to the ground. The pavement sizzled where it landed. “Whatver you did was impressive Lancer but you made one little mistake chica” Her voice took a deadly undertone, cold metal under the usual exuberance and Waver gulped nervously. 

“No-one, and I mean no-one, touches my baby” Yang launched herself forward, fists flying into a dizzying array of punches and jabs. Lancer dodged the first hook to her head and used her forearm to deflect the second punch to the side. The third undercut almost took her by surprise and she had to flip backwards to keep her head out of its path. She landed and immediately swung the javelin around like a lance forcing Yang to duck under it. Yang kicked her feet out and Lancer jumped back to safety a couple of meters away. Yang smashed her fists together, sparking a maelstrom of mana. She launched two balls of fire at Lancer. Lancer moved her free hand to her waist and unlocked an expandable shield which absorbed the fire. 

“How many more weapons you hiding up your sleeve?” 

Lancer gave a guilty smirk and flipped her weapon into rifle mode firing off several rounds in quick succession. “One or two more perhaps”

Yang absorbed the shots and returned them, albeit with a touch more heat. She moved back a step to pick up a stalled minivan and tossed it effortlessly at Lancer. 

“Block that” She taunted and Lancer apparently took her up on the taunt by expanding the shield to twice its previous size and hiding under it in the rapidly growing shadow of the falling projectile. Yang waited until right before collision and then casually tossed fire on the partly exposed underbelly. 

“Gasoline and fire, never a good mix” Yang remarked, though the roar of the conflagration drowned out her words. Once the explosion died down Lancer became visible once again, her once sleek armor charred, her pale skin covered in soot but otherwise none the worse for wear. The asphalt around her however could hardly have been more shattered if hit by a plane.

“You are truly a wonderful warrior Rider. It’s a shame to have met you only here, without names to exchange. If we had met in real life I’m sure we could have been the greatest of friends”

“The same can be said of you Rider, though you should be glad your charmed voice hasn’t affected me as much as my dear master or I would hardly be able to give you a fair fight” She waved a hand at the dazed and starstruck Waver. 

Lancer dipped her head apologetically. “Nothing that can be done about that I’m afraid. It is rather a bother but I’m glad it doesn’t seem to affect you noticeably”

“As am I. You’re mistaken though, we are friends. Having fought you once I would gladly pummel anyone who threatened to hurt you” At this the warrior laughed, a rich pure laugh that rang through the street.

“And yet you would seek to kill me now?”

It was Yang’s turn to act apologetic. “Take it as a token of my friendship. Only the very best get to be pummeled by me” She didn’t even finish the sentence before running forward and sending a series of blows on the girl. Lancer matched them, some with her shield, some with her javelin switched back to sword-form, and some with her own body, subtle deflections and evasions. The blows fell increasingly quicker, burning first with bright orange flame all the way to blue supernova fire, the look in Yang’s eyes increasingly more determined until with a final war cry one of her fists found a weakness in Lancer’s guard. The punch caught her midchest sending her tumbling into the air and straight into a lightpost. 

Lancer stood up, casually slicing the bent-beyond-repair lightpost in two, before twirling her sword into javelin mode and launching it into the air towards Yang. It sailed far faster than it should have, no doubt helped by the rifle portion of the weapon, flying high into the air before plummeting downwards. Yang calculated the path instantly, stepping two feet to the left upon which the javelin moved slightly to the left as well. 

“Self-targeting now that’s not fair” Yang mocked as she propelled herself towards Lancer. A risky move for sure, leaving her back wide open to the lightning fast javelin, but Lancer only had her shield and if Yang timed it right then perhaps she could knock the Amazonian down a peg. Once she was mere feet away Yang slammed her boots into the ground, using the ensuing burst to launch herself into the air over Lancer’s head. Lancer turned shield at the ready, arm outstretched to catch the flying weapon and switch it back to sword mode. Yang kicked her shield forcing her back a step but narrowly avoided a swipe to her left arm. Lancer twirled and sent a kick aimed at Yang’s head but Yang ducked and threw herself at Lancer’s midriff knocking them both on the ground. Lancer rolled, using the sharp edge of her shield to score a gash on Yang shoulder and both the servants stood up. They held up their respective weapons and cautiously stepped forward, each far more wary of the other than before.

“Lancer this has gone on long enough” A man's unfamiliar voice boomed. The voice had no source, emanating from all directions and none. “Use your noble phantasm to its full extent and destroy Rider”

Lancer turned around, weapon trailing along her side. “Dear master there is no rush, wouldn’t you be kind enough to let me enjoy this battle at my leisure? You needn’t worry, there is no chance of me losing and I’d absolutely hate to give away my secrets so early in the game” Charm positively _dripped_ from her voice, a thick honey coating every syllable of her breathtaking lilt. 

A pause ensued, in which all eyes wandered to and fro. Waver studied his shoes diligently, while his servant seemed determined to capture every curve and aspect of her opponent to memory. The watcher pigeon flew lazily to an adjacent rooftop, no doubt searching for the hidden master. Kiritsugu forgot his anger at his missing servant to search for possible hiding places with his binoculars.

“Very well, do what you want. Just don’t let them escape, not the servant nor that insolent upstart student of mine” Waver flinched, mouthing the name of the teacher whose relic he had stolen. 

“Thank you Master, I won’t disappoint you” Javelin to sword, once again pointed at Rider’s chest. Yang was laughing fit to kill, fists completely relaxed as she pushed the sword to one side and got up in Lancer’s face. Lancer was taller but thinner, whereas Rider had the muscle to back up her frame. 

“You sly vixen” She whispered, barely loud enough for Waver to hear, “Perhaps you’re more like me than I thought” 

“Perhaps I am” Lancer shot back, “But are we going to talk or fight?”

The sound of fist on shield was her answer and the battle started again, the crackle of fire and the clang of metal ringing loud into the night.  
*****

The dark of night posed no trouble for Blake as she jumped from roof to roof stealthily. No doubt Kiritsugu wouldn’t be happy with her for tarrying so long, she wouldn’t be happy with her either in his position. The reverberations of battle could be heard from blocks away, the residual mana and prana felt from even farther out. Whoever was fighting wasn’t holding back their punches.

She slowed now, scanning the area around her for watchful eyes. It wouldn’t do to give away her presence to any other watchers. Her enhanced hearing wasn’t nearly as useful with the drowning clang of battle only as street away so she would have to rely on her night vision to make out her opponents.

There were small flickers of mana from one rooftop directly ahead, though no visible source. Maybe a concealment spell, or some sort of small familiar. It would be best to avoid that path. To the left, hidden behind a corner, she caught a flash of silver. Perhaps a revolver or a small sword. It could be her master though she would have to catch a closer look to make sure. Her dark skin would already be hard to detect in the nascent nightfall but perhaps it would be wise to make it even harder for any nearby gazes. She doubled back to the nearest chimney and pulled out enough soot from inside to cover every inch of visible skin in black. Nobody, night vision or not, would be able to see her now without the aid of magic.

Once she was ready Blake took off into a run, a shadow of night gone before it could even catch an eye. Her movements were those of a cat, lithe and light, footsteps not even raising an inch of dust or a whisper of a sound. Once she neared the corner she stepped off the rooftop, finger hanging onto the ledge as she shimmied right behind where she had seen the flash of silver. She pulled herself up, legs ready to bound off into a run if it happened to be an enemy.

It was just Maiya, Kiritsugu’s stone-faced partner. She had her Steyr AUG rifle pointed towards a distant location; her face expressionless as she waited, no doubt for Kiritsugu’s signal. Blake thought for a moment. It wouldn’t be wise to join Maiya in her hiding place. From what little she had seen of Maya she was the person to have taken every precaution to make sure her hiding place remained unseen and no matter how stealthy Blake was two were always easier to spy than one. Moreover a non-mage like Maiya wouldn’t be easily detectable by magic whereas a servant like Blake would be just the opposite. There was one way she could communicate to her however. Blake let go of the ledge with one hand used it to pull her bow free. There was a small pebble caught in an errant shingle right next to Blake’s other hand. She palmed it and quickly tied the black silk around the pebble. That should muffle the sound of the pebble just enough and if Maiya was as observant as she seemed she would recognize where the silk came from and be able to relay a message. Blake lobbed the pebble towards Maiya’s head and quickly dropped to the ground, landing with the barest hint of a whisper on all four.

She didn’t have to wait long. After just a couple seconds the pebble sailed back over, a small earpiece tied to one end of the silk. She quickly tied her bow back into place and put on the earpiece.

“Master?” She whispered.

“Saber what’s your position?” Cool, professional, where most other masters would have spent valuable time berating her for being late. Kiritsugu is more like her than she imagined.

“Alley behind Maiya’s position, what’s the situation?”

“Lancer and Rider are fighting. Rider’s master is behind her, Lancer’s master is hiding somewhere nearby. I have sight on a servant, assassin most likely and Maiya has her sights on his master’s likely hiding place. Do you have any information besides that?”

“Possibly, do you see anybody or anything on the roof forward and to the right of Maiya? No chimney and it has red shingles.”

Silence for a few seconds and then his voice came back online. “Just a bird of some sort, is it a watcher?”

“Most likely, do you want me to take it out?” Depriving the enemy of valuable information after all was an advantage in its own right.

“If you can do so without being detected then yes, after that travel two roofs right of that one and one forward, around that area should be a master. See if you can take him out quickly. Keep an eye out for assassin or archer, I have a feeling at least one of the two is here” Blake didn’t bother responding, her feet already making its way through the alleyway. She jumped and used a balcony railing to swing herself onto the roof. Her fingers were already pulling a small throwing knife from her boot. She spotted the bird, milky feathers against red shingles, and launched the knife at him, dropping back to the street without waiting for her hit to land. She kept a hand close to her Gambol Shroud, vigilant for any movement in the shadows.

Blake closed in on the area Kiritsugu had said and was preparing to take to the roofs once more when a earthquake-like tremor nearly knocked her to her feet. “What was that?” She whispered, her fingers already grasping Gambol’s handle.

“Berserker… and assassin dematerialized” The situation was rapidly spiraling out of control. There were too many servants in one place, too many unknown variables. If she could find the hidden master that would be an easy way to rid themselves of one servant but Blake doubted the master would stay in one place long if more servants joined the battle.

A hand grasped her shoulder roughly and Gambol Shroud was already swinging around, blade fixed towards the attacker’s neck. She caught a glimpse of messy copper hair and milky white eyes before her blade passed through empty air. She swore softly, searching frantically for any glimpse of the servant who had managed to sneak up right behind her without her noticing, who could have very easily placed a blade between her ribs.

“Saber are you okay?” Blake rubbed her shoulder where his hand had grasped. It was abnormally warm.

“Ye-yea describe the servant you were watching. The one you thought was assassin.”

“I couldn’t see him well. He looked like a man of maybe 20 or 22, dark skin, messy rust-colored hair down to his ne-”

“He just attacked me” Blake interrupted. Though if he really was attacking then why would he grab her shoulder? Why not just knife her from behind? There were too many unanswered questions.

“Are you okay?”

“Yea but he dematerialized before I could kill him. What’s the situation in the square?” Blake slowed her breathing, her training taking over. She put her back against a wall and scanned the street for any sign of the white-eyed servant.

“Berserker is a girl with a hammer. She’s attacking Lancer and Rider and destroying half the nearby buildings in the process. They teamed up against her but Berserker’s more than holding her own. Her stats are unreadable unfortunately; whether by nature or by design I don’t know, but we can probably assume they’re one of the highest out of all the servants”

“Any sign of Archer or Castor?”

“None. The bird might have come from one of their masters” Blake ran through the options in her head. Safest would undoubtedly be to retreat quickly. At least five servants in one place meant that no single servant was safe. Moreover Assassin had already proven his skill at stealth and even if he didn’t attack Blake again he could always go after Kiritsugu or Maiya. Staying in their position however could yield unexpected fruit. Information was key and since three of the four known opponents were busy fighting each other it was the perfect opportunity to observe fighting styles and plan accordingly. There was a third option too. It was the riskiest, but also potentially the most rewarding.

“Master send me after Berserker” He stayed silent, no doubt running through the same vein of thoughts that Blake had just run through. If he was as much like her as he had shown himself to be then he would reach the same conclusion she had.

“Go” He finally said, long after Blake had already started running, not even bothering to silence her footsteps as she tore through the street. Her Gambol Shroud had come out from its sheath and the cool feel of metal in her hand made her forget the heat in her shoulder. It was the most dangerous choice; it was also the only logical choice. Berserker and assassin were their biggest threats such far. Berserker was an unknown that could hold off against two top notch servants in direct battle. Assassin had sneaked up right behind her and Blake hadn’t even noticed anything. His stealth had surpassed her faunus senses, her night vision, her training. By joining with Lancer and Rider against Berserker Blake could potentially remove their biggest threat while ensuring that Assassin couldn’t attack her again, not while she was around three other servants. Lancer and Rider could be useful allies and neither seemed likely to backstab her, at least not this early in the game. No doubt Kiritsugu had thought much along the same line of reasoning.

The night air rushed past her as she charged into the square, katana in one hand, sheath in the other. Berserker had her back to her, her hammer slamming against Lancer’s shield repeatedly while Rider futilely shot bursts of fire. Gambol Shroud flew, an extension of her arm, singing its metallic call for blood as it cut through the air. Here she was fighting again, how ironic.

_“But don’t you like fighting?” She had said it as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Who doesn’t like fighting? That’s what her puppy eyes said. In truth you had never given it much thought. You fought to survive since before you could remember. It was fun in much the same way that breathing or eating was fun._

_“Do you?” You had answered, more to evade her question then to get an answer. You already knew her answer, from the first time you saw her fight, from the dreamy wide-eyed look she gave you now._

_“Only if it’s for the right reasons” She had whispered into your neck, her lips trailing every curve of you, her fingers drawing constellations of stars on your bare skin._

_“And what, are, the right reasons, then?” You had mouthed in between kisses, barely more than whisper. She had always been unfairly talented at making you breathless._

_“To protect those who can’t protect themselves of course…” It was the most natural thing in the world for her, an indisputable part of her nature that this whole fucked up world had never, and could never corrupt. She interlocked her fingers with yours and raised them above your heads, so to be able to torment you easier into submission. “-and to be safe with the girl I love”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NUMBER 1) In case it wasn't clear, most of the characters don't know each other. There are two however who do come from the same world SO a prize to whoever guesses which two.  
> NUMBER 2) Congrats on getting this far, you deserve a muffin  
> NUMBER 3) If you comment I'll send you lots of virtual hugs


	4. He-llo Kit-ty, Kat!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _“First of all congratulations on your win Pyrhha, it was truly the fight of the century”_   
>  _“Thank you very much, I’m glad you enjoyed it”_   
>  _“Why don’t you tell us, and of course the viewers back home, how it feels to be the first ever female grand champion of the Kovotch Arena?”_   
>  _“It’s a little overwhelming certainly, but I had more than my fair share of friends who believed in me all the way through, they deserve most of the credit”_   
>  _“We are very lucky then, that you have such good friends. What would you say to critics who say the arena is no place for a woman? Just this year more than a dozen new female warriors qualified for the first round of the championship, in no small part to your growing fame”_   
>  _“I think anybody who loves challenging themselves, male or female, should be allowed to do what they love. All of these girls know what they’re getting themselves into and I’m sure we’ll see great things from them in the future”_

The thin blade sliced her shoulder, red ichor breaking through the cake of mud. Nora swung her hammer at the shadow, forcing her back away.  
Nora threw her head back and laughed, an ugly disshapen crow of a laugh that ringed abnormally long before dissipating. “He-llo kit-ty cat,” Fragmented syllables whispered by a cracked lilting voice.

Blake ran at her, sidestepping a swipe and trailing the sharpened sheath along Nora’s side before leaping again to safety. The laughter grew louder at that, ugly champagne bubbles of giggles and snorts coming from this abomination of a girl. A chill ran down Blake’s spine that had nothing to do with the night air.

Blur of yellow slammed into Berserker but Rider wasn’t fast enough because Nora dropped to the ground grabbing the blonde’s ankle and launching her into the air. Rider fell to the pavement with a sickening thud and it was Lancer’s turn, her javelin crackling with energy as it shot directly for Berserker’s chest except Berserker somehow impossibly grabbed it in midair and sent it back to it’s owner, still cackling maniacally all the while.   
Blake was at the fallen Rider's side, arm extended to help her up. Berserker was toying with her, she realized that now. Her attack hadn't been much faster than Rider's or Lancer's and Berserker had countered both of them without apparent effort.The question was why, and how long would it last.   
"Rrrr-un" Her r's tripped more than rolled, a barely discernible mockery of language. "kit-ty cat, wh-ere sa-ku-ra" There was no questioning lilt, no fluidity in her words, as if each was an island separate from the other. "wh-ere rrrr-in" 

Gambol sang for blood as Blake swept once more into action. She was more careful this time, staying just out of her range, darting in to test her defenses for a fleeting second before jumping right back, ever wary for the impossibly fast swing of her weapon. Her feet rested for fractions of a heartbeat on the cold pavement before leaping back into actions. One or two attacks got through, a small gash on her left thigh, a larger cut on her lower back, nothing deep, nothing that would take Berserker down. 

Fire seared past Blake's ear roaring with vengeance as it crashed into the she-beast. Blake saw her opening and Gambol swung. She felt a nick, an almost imperceptible feel of flesh before the weapon sliced through empty air and smoke. Berserker had disappeared. Blake held her weapons warily, eyes darting left and right. 

A boom tore through the air, reverberations of magic rippling in a tornado-like fashion. Blake swung up to the source of the magic, both weapons at the ready as the growing shape took form in the haze of smoke. A heavy weight pushed her from the side and all the breath left her lungs as she fell to the ground. 

When she came to, Lancer had her by the shoulders shaking her roughly as her lips moved silently. Blake reached up a hand wiped away the cold blood oozing out of her ear. No wonder she couldn't hear Lancer, the explosion had driven her deaf. Fat lot of good her Faunus senses had done her.   
Lancer gave up on speaking, pressing cold metal into Blake's hand before rolling into a run, whether towards or away from the enemy Blake had no idea. She looked down at the metal in her hand and realized with a start that it was Gambol. Stupid, idiotic, novice of her to lose her weapon! Blake knew better than that. Only the mercy of an enemy had saved her, Lancer could have just as easily slit her throat. Some hero, thought Blake bitterly. She sheathed Gambol and strained her eyes past the barrier of upturned rubble and smog. 

Slowly the square came back into view. The bright red of Lancer's hair was far more noticeable than the blonde servant or the brown-haired master she was next to. Berserker however, was nowhere to be seen. Blake could see where she had been, a relatively unharmed patch of roof surrounded by a nexus of charred stone and flickering aura. The she-demon wasn't there now though. Why leave? Berserker had been winning even before using whatever noble phantasm or weapon knocking her out. Perhaps she had run out of mana. The faint whispers of circulating magic proved that this was no low-cost attack. Or perhaps her master simply wanted to play it safe. Whatever the reason Berserker was well and truly gone. 

A glimpse of white from her periphery and Blake turned to see Irisviel holding her hands up in a gesture of innocence no more than a few paces away. She had gotten far too close without Blake noticing, first the assassin and now her fake master. Perhaps Blake was losing her touch. Even if she was deaf from the attack she still had her sense of smell that should have warned her of Irisviel's approach. 

Actually now that Blake mentioned it... She slowly inhaled, letting her keen nose discern every facet of the air, from the ever faint tinge of long-eaten dishes to the overpowering musk of darkness and blood. No Irisviel though. Not a bland smell either, such as the average soap-user who smells neither good nor bad but just is. No, this was the absence of smell. A side-effect of her nature perhaps? Irisviel was no more human than her, and while her Faunus nature at least gave Blake some physical advantages, something told her that being her homonculism was much more curse than gift. 

Irisviel lowered her palms, and pointing them downwards at Blake's feet. Blue healing runes ran down the length of the fingers, wisping into the air before caressing their way up Blake’s legs. A cool blanket rose around her, more comforting than restricting, and as the spell reached up to her ears sound rushed back into existence, unbearably loud after a period of non-existance. 

“Better?” Irisviel whispered. Blake trailed her fingers past a newly healed scar. She nodded assent. 

Irisiviel flashed a small smile. “Come on” She grasped Blake’s hand dragging her towards the other group of servants. If she had noticed Blake flinch at being touched so suddenly she gave no sign.

“Hello Rider, Lancer, Lancer’s servant” She announced, nodding respectfully to each in turn. “I am Saber’s master” Blake kept her face impassive. A genius tactical move really on Kiritsugu’s part. This deceit left him free to work from the shadows. Of course it also meant that Irisviel became target number one for anyone hoping to eliminate them from the war. 

Both servants were the worse for wear. Their duel had been nothing if not intense and the sudden intrusion of Berseker had no doubt drained the last of their mana vestiges. Lancer had foregone her armor in favor of a less draining shirt and tie but as Blake and Irisviel approached she visibly readied her sword and flashed her metal garment back into existence. Rider was more relaxed, her arm resting around her visibly shivering master. 

“Don’t worry, we’re not here to fight” Irisviel assured them. Lancer relaxed imperceptibly. “All of us are weak and wounded. Actually I came to propose an… alliance of sorts” 

Alliances. What a laughable concept in a war to the death. A temporary pact however, while more dangerous servants were dealt with… that could be worked with. Lancer and Rider were both strong servants in their own right, but neither possessed any visible advantages over her own fighting style and Blake felt confident that when the time came they would be no threat to her. 

“Interesting” Lancer murmured. “What kind of alliance?”

“We would work together until the bigger threat was taken care of, in this case Berserker. After that we would disband the alliance and continue fighting as enemies”

“Ha” Rider let out a sharp bark of a laugh and nearly knocked her master over with a boisterous slap on the back. “Sounds alright to me what do you think eh master?”

His brow visibly crunched in thought. “An alliance could be, useful I suppose” 

“Well that settles it!” Rider spat a healthy glob of goo on her palm before offering it to Blake. Blake studied the spit-moistened gloved hand impassively. She switched the sheathed gambol to her other hand and ran her right palm quickly across the sharpened edge, drawing fresh red on her newly healed body. Her blood mixed with Rider’s spit as they shook hands. Rider’s master looked slightly green, recoiling slightly at the loud squelch of liquid on liquid.

“And you Lancer?” Rider offered her now bloody glove. 

Before Lancer could respond, the magically amplified voice of her nearly forgotten master rang once more. “Lancer step away from that rabble and head back home immediately”

Lancer spoke to nowhere in particular. “Master an alliance could be m-“

“Shut your witch mouth! You are my servant Lancer. It’s high time you started acting like it. Return home before I’m forced to waste a command spell”

Lancer dematerialized, her eyes still fixed on Rider’s as the last sliver of her body dissipated.

*****

It was too much effort to scream, though every inch of your body burned, though you could feel your mind unraveling into insanity. Your fingernails drew blood as they dug in your palms, but the cold pain could barely be felt over the maelstrom of voices beating you in, knocking you to your knees and clawing their way out of you from the inside. 

_Kit-ty cat_ Your servant had been beautiful out there, absolutely destroying th _Filthy whore come here little princess, c-come h-_ the other two. They hadn’t held a candle up to her, and if it hadn’t been for the third servant, the black on- _boop! And there’s the heart now its tim-_ no it wasn’t even the third ones fault. Berserker had run out of mana pure and sim- _me-ow can run but me-ow can’t hid- ple._  
You were too weak, too weak, too fucking weak, _master-friend-stranger weak, master-friend-stranger dy-ing-_ You had to get stronger, you had to save saku- _save ren_ \- ra no matter the cost. Save sakura no matter what!!

The voices died immediately, an empty abyss of nothingness. You could hear yourself now, hear the heaving coughs that racked your chest constantly, hear the chitter chitter of the bugs right underneath your skin. 

A single voice spoke out, the girl , the leader of all the other voices. _No matter what? Save Sakura-friend-ren, what would you give?_

“Everything” You coughed out, “Everything” 

She showed up then, the actual girl not just the voices, kneeling next to you, eyes boring into your soul, and you didn’t even have the energy to flinch. Her nails dug into you, deeper than yours could have ever gone, pain _sweet pain_ coursing its way through every vein. She flashed a steak-knife smile and blood dripped from her assortment of fangs, the teeth of some prehistoric wolf, as deadly as any knife. 

_Master-friend-stranger might die_

Save Sakura. That’s all that matters. She read the fleeting wish as you thought it.

Her head dipped, her mouth widened as she took in the entire length of your neck. Her jaw unhinged with a crack of bone and each tooth scratched at your skin, hungry for blood. 

_Blood Drinker_ The unmistakable tear of a noble phantasm you realized faintly. 

The teeth dug in drinking the weak rivulets of blood that gushed out. It would most likely kill you, no mana, no blood, no inch of your body or mind that hadn’t been ravaged by voices, by bugs, by magic. 

_Where is she?_ The girl asked even as she tore through your thoughts for the answer. You couldn’t have responded anyway, the teeth had cut off your breathing. 

Darkness overtake you shortly after, long before the teeth would finally pull out from their sanguinary feast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _What makes a legendary human worthy to be offered the choice? And more importantly, what tragic circumstances lead the sinner to accept such a damned fate, to turn their back from the heavens? Noble spirits are heroes in much the same way as Lucifer. Let's study them, learn from them, understand them, but do not deign to confuse their heresy for any sort of nobleness._  
>  Holy Inquistor Francis


End file.
